Warmth
by Secret Yaoi Lover
Summary: A classic Gil and Raamgarnas romance, dripping with fluff and angst. Contains yaoi. Rated M for brief strong language and possibly sexual scenes. Will be 5 to 6 chapters long.
1. The Visitor

**Warmth Chapter I: The Visitor By Secret Yaoi Lover (AKA: Aubrey)**

_Disclaimer: Don't own Dragon Knights or any of their paraphernalia, blah, blah, blah, you've heard it all before._

This is my first **real** fanfiction. It's been ages since I've written something based on another series, and even then it was crappy, amateur, comedic stuff.

It's been ages since I've read Dragon Knights, so if I'm a little off or not up-to-date just sue me. I'll add it to my twenty thousand other lawsuits.

But even though it's been ages, the GilxRaamu (or Laamgarnas if it so suits you) has been rolling between my ears ever since I stumbled upon the angst ridden series. So here's my pathetic attempt at it. I'm not expecting reviews, but I'd appreciate any compliments, criticims-- even flames-- since I really am trying to become a better writer.

As for the story-- it's a **yaoi** romance between Gil and Raamgarnas (and I will spell his name that way thank-you-very-much). If you don't know what that means, then you probably shouldn't be here. Oo; I'm rating it "T" now, but it **could get more sexual** so be forewarned!

For everyone else, please enjoy.

* * *

Gil inhaled one long, shuddering breath. The floor was cold, and dyed with the colors of old and new bloodshed. Dark and melancholy, the acrylic splashes of red painted the dance steps of his history.

An equally long exhalation. He pondered how a floor could be so cold with all the days (weeks? years?) of warm blood dripping into it-- out of him. Getting a bit colder each time it lapped up the blood of it's victim.

Gil rolled onto his side, stretching one gangly arm out in front of him, and reaching around himself to touch his back. Red stains there too. But the bleeding would stop eventually. It always did, and if it didn't, Shydeman would take him under his wing-- and into his bed.

He pushed the thought aside and rolled over again, onto his chest and pushed himself upright. His arms were still shaking, and Gil only managed to spit the bitter taste of come from his mouth before collapsing again.

It was no use to argue unfairness. It was just another day. Maybe if he believed it was just the same day repeating, it would be more bearable-- more merciful-- to imagine just one day of torture, instead of an endless amount. That way it really never started, and he the ending could just be right around the corner.

He closed his eye and lay motionless, his left cheek pressed against the floor, raping him of any heat that he had left. Gil prayed for a few more moments of silence. A few more seconds of this quiet hiatus between now and the next pleasure seeking guest.

The creaking of the large door drained him of his meager hopes, and he shrank back at the boot enveloped footsteps that followed. He didn't want to look his newcomer. Sometimes it was better if he didn't, and not knowing whether it was man or woman who inflicted his pain, he could dream his way past it, and through it. Though sometimes his unresponsiveness only led to worse affliction.

The person had stopped. He thought he could hear him breathing-- had he been running? Or was he nervous or even frightened? The thought almost struck him as funny. Maybe he was new to this fortress.

"G-Gil?"

His name. He hadn't heard it in a while, ever since pet names apparently became the new fad. It was a curious anomaly, and maybe it was worth seeing who this hesitant, formal voice belonged too.

He opened his good eye, and found his hair hanging in front of his face in dirty wispy locks. Gil forced himself to sit up, his arms still shaking. A sharp pain along his shoulder blades reminded him that the scratches hadn't healed yet.

Maybe that's why the man before of him looked so tense-- so worried. Did he grow nauseous at the sight of blood? That suggestion was even funnier than the last. Gil looked up at the man, twisting his weary gaze into a scowl. A snarl began to form in the back of his throat. Sure it never worked before, but maybe he could drive this one off with some small intimidation.

The man's eyes softened. "I've finally found you," his voice was soft, "You are the one they call Gil, yes?" He took one step forward, and then another.

Gil began to growl a bit louder. He made sure he was showing just how long his fangs were. They were rather small compared to most of the creatures that had stormed into this room-- but you had to make the most of what you had, or what was left. A sick sensation began to form in his stomach. Gil stood his ground, biting back his anxiety. Even this man-- this boy-- was giving him repulsive flashbacks (and forwards).

"Don't be afraid," he said, "Please-- my name is Raamgarnas. I'm not going to hurt you."

He was moving towards him with more confidence now. Gil fought the urge to close his eyes. He hissed at him, and hoped that he would believe he was shaking with anger.

"Look what they've done to you." His voice had dropped to a whisper, "I'm going to get you out of here, I going to save you."

_No._ Gil was overcome with thoughts of a coarse tongue against his chest, teeth digging into his shoulders, claws slashing down his legs, fingers creeping up against-- into-- his naked body. He crawled back a couple of inches, not breaking his gaze with his new enemy.

"Gil..." When did he get so close? The man knelt down in front of him, staring back at him with those sympathetic eyes. He reached out a hand-- no claws, no scales, no spines--

_No!_

Gil lashed out at him, leaving three bold stripes across his palm. Gil was shaking so hard. Why wouldn't he just grab his hair and strike him? Why wouldn't he hold him down as he bit into his neck and spread his legs? Why wouldn't--

The hand, now beginning to run crimson, touched face. Gil stiffened. All he could do is stare at him with wide eyes. And tremble. Tremble and tremble and tremble.

The boy made a choking noise and suddenly pulled Gil towards him, enveloping him in an embrace. He was also trembling-- but with... sobs?

Gil had stopped shaking, but the paralysis was still there. His head was tucked into the man's shoulder, warm and guarding.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered into his ear, "I'm going to get you out of here. I promise. Tomorrow-- wait for me tomorrow."

_Tomorrow?_

He held onto Gil for a few more, lingering moments, before releasing him and holding him at a little less than arms length. "You don't have to suffer anymore. Please wait for me tomorrow."

Gil gazed blankly at the boys chest. What was he hearing? Was this even real? He wondered if he had fallen asleep, but even in his dreams there had been no one-- _no one_-- who had said anything like this.

"Gil? Gil do you understand?" He didn't strike him to gain his attention. He was patient, his hands holding his shoulders. Gil looked up at him, and then back at the floor. It wasn't real, it couldn't be.

"Please just--" the man sighed, knowing that any suggestion he made would be practically impossible, "--Just... hang in there."

Gil watched him get to his feet, and begin to walk towards the doorway. He paused at the exit, giving him a weak smile before passing through and shutting the door into silence, as if he had never been there.

Gil closed his eyes, pulling his legs in towards him.

He wasn't cold anymore.

:edited 8-31-05: 


	2. Tomorrow

**Warmth Chapter II: Tomorrow By Secret Yaoi Lover (AKA: Aubrey)**

_Disclaimer: I do not own Dragon Knights._

I'm trying to crank these chapters out as fast as I can before my inspiration drains out of me. So yes, there is an ending, and yes, I will be updating often. Oh-- and at this rate, this story is going to be about five to six chapters long, instead of four. But fear not-- I'm hoping on making them much longer than that first pilot chapter.

As you can probably already tell I've taken the liberty of deviating from the manga. Just bear with me, okay? I'm allowed to take some artistic license here (just a little). And I thank you for all four of you who **graciously** sent me reviews. I promise to work harder and improve my writing style! I **think** I was a little better when it came to revising this time around, and if I have a spare moment I'll fix some of the ridiculous uber-drama in Ch. 1. (As if this chapter isn't uber-dramatic too. SIGH.)

* * *

Tomorrow.

What day was it now? Had a month passed? A week? Or maybe only a minute had gone by in this intangible universe. Time was simply a relative concept. He had been laying here longer then he had been laying there. They had beaten him longer there than he had been beaten here. _But just how long was it?_

It didn't matter. Tomorrow was either ahead or behind him, anywhere except the moment he wanted it the most.

He had forgotten he was being kicked.

He drifted back into reality just in time to become aware of a sharp blow to his abdomen, causing him to cry out. A mistake. A severe, horrible mistake. He had brought the fun back in the game, just when they were beginning to tire of the sport.

How much would he bleed? How much would he scream? Could you force a reaction out of this miserable creature?

He was stabbed several times in the back, sending him into a snapped arch of excruciating pain. He hoped they would hit the vitals. He prayed for the death that he could never have.

The blood.

The rape.

The laughs.

Tomorrow would never come.

For all he new the man who gave him that promise could be the person pulling back his head and exposing his neck. He could be the person drawing lines the bottoms of his feet with a knife, asking if it tickled.

He had never wanted a tomorrow until now. And maybe that was what made it so unbearable.

They were gone, skittering away as if nothing had ever happened. He could feel his body all ready healing. Rebelliously. Mercilessly. Why wouldn't he just die in a pool of his own blood like a _normal_ person? The one's that were killed in droves every week-- every _day_? Did they drink up their fate in all it's glory? Did they go down satisfied, grateful for the blessed privilege of death?

_You're the only one who wishes to die, and you're the only one who can't have it._

You can't even have tomorrow.

Gil curled up on his side, fingering the bloody cross marks on his arm. _All you can do is treasure these small hiatuses between your pain-- your purpose._ Gil breathed deeply, enjoying the air while he had it still in his lungs. He closed his eyes and hovered at the edge of consciousness.

He didn't realize someone had entered the room until the thud of a bag hitting the floor pierced the darkening silence. A shuffle of shoes, a hand on his shoulder. He was flipped onto his back and his shoulders were being cradled. He winced. The movement made his head hurt.

"Gil-- oh god-- Gil!"

His name. He hadn't heard it in a while.

Or had he?

Gil's good eye flicked open. His vision was blurry and he couldn't really see his visitor. But would it have mattered? He couldn't compare him to the kind man from before, being as he never took a good look at him either. All he had was a hazy dream of hope and delirium, with no memories to cling to.

He closed and reopened his eye several times to try to clear his sight. It wasn't doing any good. His visitor was still out of focus and unidentifiable.

But was it as important as it felt? Did his visage truly make a difference as long as the hope, the salvation, the _promise_ was still there?

The anonymous being was saying something to him, trying to sit him up a little bit to hold or carry him in some way. He spoke rapidly-- nervously-- glancing over his shoulder towards the door. Why did he feel the need to say so much? Gil closed his eyes, only catching every fifth word, his mind lost in a maze of contemplation.

"Is it... tomorrow?"

He prepared to repeat himself. He had spoken too softly, and if not that, incorrectly. He did that from time to time, mixing up the order or tense of the words when he wasn't focusing. It got him in trouble-- or at least ridiculed-- so he tried hard to recall the language he hoped he once learned.

The man had stopped talking as soon as Gil did, looking fervently into his scarred face, still pale and trembling slightly. "What?" He paused for a moment, reflecting on Gil's words.

"Y-yes," he stumbled, "Yes of course it is-- but Gil, don't worry I'll..."

Gil didn't hear the rest. He was falling now, a black fog swelling into his vision. It was tomorrow-- and that was all the comfort he needed.

* * *

Floating or sinking. Maybe he wasn't moving at all, suspended somewhere in the dark fathoms of a boundless ocean. He couldn't feel his arms-- or any part of his body for that matter. Drifting somewhere between worlds, existing without really existing at all.

Was this death?

It was all that he could have hoped for. The silence, the peace. The darkness that curled around him, comforting his consciousness.

Thoughts seemed out of place. There was no room to think in the emptiness. He neither cared how or when he reached this place, or if he would ever leave.

He only wanted to rest like this... forever.

_Breathe._

Breathe? Why would he do that now? It would require so much effort, so much undesirable stress to attempt such a task.

_Breathe Gil._

He shook the quiet voice away. What a petty annoyance. Breathing? Ha! Breathing was not needed in this beautiful utopia of sleep.

_Breathe Gil! Oh god-- please breathe!_

He was rudely made aware of a sharp pain in his chest and an uninvited swelling of warm air into his lungs. He rejected it, trying to return back to his quietude. The more than welcome darkness crept into his body once again. Soothing. Swallowing.

_Dammit-- Gil please!_

Another rush of air, sudden and piercing. His nerves sparked back into existence with an fierce shot of pain. A pause filled with the same pleading voice. Then the artificial breath again, stealing his soul away from him, reminding of all the pain and agony that had been sealed into his mortal body.

_Make it stop._ A mouth hot and wet was clamped over his-- robbing him of whatever choice he had-- then a breath-- taking more away from him then it gave. Gil fought with himself, straining to take in his own breath within the next two seconds that fled so quickly before the next inescapable exhalation broke into his body like the fall of a guillotine blade.

The raping wind came again, pushing, breaking into his body and psyche. He tried to break away and breathe in his own air, but his unresponsive muscles lay slack like a dead man's. Who knew that drawing one breath would be so difficult?

His replacement lung was leaning over him, begging for a reaction, pleading that it wouldn't have to breathe for him again. Giving up, the exhalation came down on him again, but in mid breath Gil inhaled violently, his lungs inflating with shooting pains, and soon afterward began to cough, piercing his chest with agony.

His heaven was gone, replaced by a soft mattress and cool sheets. He forced his heavy eye open, and found his only view to be the wooden frames of the ceiling. Someone to the right of him was speaking breathlessly, "Oh thank god. I thought I almost lost you Gil."

_Yeah, it would have been nice if you did._

"I'm so sorry-- that was all my fault."

_Then why are you apologizing?_

"I'm such a fool. Here I've-- wait-- no-- don't fall asleep-- no!"

He slipped back into darkness, but his shoreless ocean was gone.

* * *

He awoke in two ways. Slowly, then quickly. The ceiling was unfamiliar, as was the walls, the furniture, the bed... An initial adrenaline rush bolted him upright, only resulting in grimacing pain. He clutched at his middle, which was covered in a long shirt, and likely had bandages underneath. His arms were striped with healing wounds, the more recent ones more faint, being that they received more adequate medical attention.

There was not a drop of blood on him-- an almost alien phenomenon-- and he felt sore. Maybe one was only sore after resting. Resting. How long had he been asleep anyway?

Gil's limbs were beginning to feel heavy as the adrenaline began to settle in his system. Still, the quaint and much-too-hospitable bed sheets were making him nervous. He unfolded himself from the covers and slipped down to the floor-- a small trip since the bed was only two mattresses high.

He pulled himself into a corner, growing more tired, hungry, and sore with each six inches. It wasn't that bad though. Gil had felt tired, hungry, and sore many times before, and this was no different except he had no idea where he was or what had happened too him.

Gil put his back to the corner, a fairly defensive position, and after some considering, tugged the shirt up and over his head, and tossing it aside. He instantly regretted it, being as a chill swept down his body, but at least he had rid himself of both the bed and the clothing-- an incessant reminder of Shydeman.

He folded his hands over his eyes, reminding himself to forget about it, and to think of something else, but without burning pain to will away, distractions were fairly hard to come by. Why had he come here? Why did he allow himself to be kidnapped? He was bewildered and desperate, and allowed himself to collapse into the arms of... the arms of...

Just another person who seemed nice at first, but would no doubt have his way in the end.

_Like Shydeman._

No, not him. Not again. It's someone else like--

_Shydeman._

God no.

He curled himself up into the corner, away from the room, away from _everything_.

_I should have stayed there. Why did I let him take me? I could have fought back, I could have, I could have, I could..._

But he didn't. Couldn't.

The door opened, and his abductor's face peered in, breaking into initial panic when seeing Gil had disappeared from the bed, but soon rediscovered him in the corner, coiled up and glaring at him.

"Ah-- I-- I see you're awake, I-- I'm sorry I--"

_Was he always this literate?_

"Some food I-- No. Here, you're going to catch your cold if you don't cover yourself. It's the middle of winter so..." He crossed the room, pulling the comforter off the low bed and laying it across Gil, tucking it under his chin. "...Here. I don't want you getting sick on top of your busted ribs and me nearly killing you on pain medication. I almost did too-- overdose. Do you remember that? Maybe not. I was a fool, the merchant ever told me not to give any more than two doses-- I--"

He stopped, aware of his rambling. "I'm sorry." He stood, straightening, "I'm going to get some food now. You really should get into bed." He turned, semi-rushing out of the room, possibly afraid that Gil would evaporate if he didn't eat something soon.

_So that's my kidnapper._

My nervous, cordial, babbling kidnapper.

* * *

_So I've taken a bit of a non-classic approach to this story. Instead of a calm, angelic, and gaggingly sweet Raamgarnas, we have slightly overburdened, anxious, and slightly frightened Raamgarnas. Instead of a dependent, trusting, oh-Raamgarnas-please-hold-me! type Gil, we have this brooding, suspicious, and terminally apathetic Gil._

Doesn't this seem like the beginning of a bee-u-tiful relationship? I figured that my readers should get a change of scenery, even if they have to experience it kicking and screaming. Ah well-- It's a GilxRaam, and you HAVE to finish reading it now! Wa ha ha!

Oh, and at this point, a future sex scene is a resounding MAYBE for the following reasons. A.) I'm not sure if my writing talent is really to handle something as heavy as sex. I mean seriously-- they are really **really** hard to write. So if I do, I might just skim over the details. B.) OR you might not get one at ALL! If this romance turns out as fluffy and so-sweet-it's-sticky like I'm hoping for, do I really want something as wild and messy as sex to ruin it? Hm?

Since I only got four reviews (out of 22 hits! GAH!) I'm going to take the time to thank my reviewers. If I ever get more than five reviews per chapter though (a far out dream-- I can accomplish it!) I'm not going to thank each one individually. Sorry! All you new readers can just skip this part and click the review button. (Hint, nudge, wink.)

**Lady Dragonnaine**: My first reviewer, thanks! Shydeman and Gil aren't my personal favorite pairing, Oo; but your going to see more mentions of him in the future.

**Dragon of Eternal**: Thank you for giving me constructive criticism! I really do want to become a better writer, so thanks for being honest with me. This chapter was better, yes?

**Shnickledooger**: What a passionate response. Thank you, I appreciate the excitement-- it makes me feel speshul. XD

**DragonnessFei**: A sweet, genuine compliment. Another one of my favorite types of reviews. I hope you liked this last one as much as I did.


	3. Somewhere Else

**Warmth Chapter III: Somewhere Else By Secret Yaoi Lover (AKA: Aubrey)**

Disclaimer: I don't own Dragon Knights-- but I do secure rights to this fanfiction.

_((Covers mouth.)) Oops! I said a bad word in this chapter! By official rating codes, this is officially an "M" rated fiction now-- and only for saying the "F" word once. As if you people care. I know y'all are 13 year old kids trying to sneak a peek at some shounen-ai fanfiction. I did that too when I was your age..._

* * *

It was bread.

Just bread. It required no adjectives or flowery descriptions and maybe it was better that way. The bread at the fortress was much more than simple bread. Words such as cold, hard, small, old, and even salty. Not lacking in nutrients though. His captors were sure to keep him as close to half-alive as possible. Or was it half-dead?

He'd have to say though, bread was much more pleasant when it was uncomplicated.

He wasn't hungry however, and couldn't really taste it. Chances are that he wouldn't have even tasted it if his new waiter hadn't encouraged him so-- and was still watching him eat it.

_Me and this bread must be fascinating._

Gil sighed inwardly and tried not to make eye contact. Maybe if he ate slowly then he wouldn't have to eat the soup either. Or get into bed. Or take the pain medication.

And then what, fall asleep just to wake up and start it all over again? Just a long list of petty annoyances. At least it beat the fortress. Did it? His memories of the place were already getting foggy. Damn short term memory loss-- or suppression.

"Gil."

His name again. An obedient side-glance followed.

"If you don't have to eat it if you don't want too. It's just that I thought after all this time you might be hungry, but if your not..."

Gil set the bread down on the floor and pulled the comforter around him. Good riddance.

"I see. I--" the man floundered for a bit before standing, "I guess your mind's made up then. I'll leave the soup here, in case you get hungry later. If you want anything just ask-- or notify me in some way and I'll get it for you. Yeah..."

Gil was tired again. No-- not tired just... bored. Still, boredom could be cured by sleep he supposed. "I guess I'll go now. I'll be in the kitchen, try to get some more rest, okay?" He stood in the doorway, patiently expectant for some anonymous thing, and then turned, leaving the room.

"Wait."

The man-- the boy-- stopped instantly, whirling back around. "Yes?" he said with a smile.

Gil began to regret getting his attention. He was being watched with such anticipation, as that last uttered word was dripping with unbearable suspense. Gil glanced down at the edge of the blanket, trying not to fidget.

"Name." How incomplete of a sentence was that? Gil strained his memory, knowing it took more than that to form a simple question. His listener leaned forward into the room, "Excuse me?"

Gil pursed his lips. "Name," he spoke more clearly, but not much louder, "You. Your name."

"My... Ah!" He smiled as recognition flushed across his face, "My name is Raamgarnus. Raam-gar-nus. I'm sorry, I should have cleared that up earlier."

_It's no great tribulation._ Gil shrugged and curled away. Asking was too much work for such little trivia. Just a name to keep in mind. He would probably need to remember it eventually.

"All right," said Raamgarnus, looking much more optimistic then before, "I'll be in the other room. Like I said, call me if you need me."

_I won't be._ Gil closed his eyes, and laid against the wall. He liked corners. It was almost a comforting area, if he had one. The middle of the room was just so... exposed.

"Raam-- Raamu--" He tested, "Raamga--" He scowled and gave up the experiment, justifying himself by labeling the name too long and involved.

The room was not getting any less uncomfortable. He tried to sleep.

* * *

_I love you._

That's what he said. That's what he told him once-- twice-- on multiple occasions.

_Do you love me?_

Gil found himself looking at the crumpled sheets around his arms. He was fidgeting again.

"I-- I don't know..."

The "lover" smiled, or close too it, pulling him closer against his naked body. "You should. I'm the only one who will, and you better take up that chance."

"Shyde--"

"Get cleaned up. Go back to your chambers and think about it."

_It was all a game. Just a bloody game._

He did. Through the beatings and blood, he had something to hope for. To look forward to. The day seemed so long, his impatience growing with his endurance. All for this alien thing; love. Did Shydeman love him? Could he love him back? Would he be able to take refuge in this... love?

"Wake up, Gil." Instant obedience followed Shydeman's command. He was in Shydeman's room again, the transfer taking place during his exhausted unconsciousness. "Come here."

"Shydeman..." Gil looked up at him, struggling to his feet and stepping towards him. He had planned what he wanted to say, weighing every word with care, knowing the risky waters he could be stepping into. But how bad could it be? The thought was so comforting, so... genuine.

"I-- I love you." Gil spoke softly. He was nervous, but happy. Love seemed more than he could have hoped for, more than he deserved. Gil was looking down again, and glanced up to glimpse Shydeman's reaction.

He was smiling. Relief was the initial reaction before he realized he was smiling with... amusement? Why would he be amused? Why would he be _smirking_?

"I'm glad to hear that," he replied, snaking his long fingers behind his head. Gil stiffened. He was unsure now, but with a little hope, a little patience...

Shydeman gripped his hair and threw him onto the bed, swiftly following. "Bloody animal. You can love me as much as you want." Gil cried out, his head stretching back against the Shydeman's grip near his scalp, "Shyde--"

Shydeman pushed two fingers into Gil's mouth, pressing down on his tongue. "It's the best you'll ever get, so try to enjoy it." His eyes were still dark and lidded, all enjoyment hidden beneath his blank apathetic face. "Are you listening? I love you, my cat."

He was trapped, exposed to Shydeman's will. Gil fought the urge to bite down on his fingers, fearful of any future harm either to his body or psyche. His captor released Gil's hair to explore the scars on his arm. He leaned down to his in his ear. "Say it back to me. I love you." He pulled his fingers from his mouth, a thread of saliva following. He drew a thick wet line across his jawline. "Say it."

"I--" Gil strained, his words twisting in his throat, "I love you."

"That's right. Say it again."

"I love you."

He lost himself in the pain. The lower class youkai handled the physical destruction. Shydeman-- the psychological. He had passed the point of becoming animal like, and was becoming more of a doll.

_I love you, Gil. Say it back to me. I love you._

* * *

He woke in a cold sweat, his hands gripping into his pillow. He sat up, the dark moonlight glinting on his eyes, and combed his hands halfway through his hair. Suppressing memories worked fine until he fell asleep.

Gil was back in the bed again. He slipped out and stood, wavering a bit and wincing at a the feeling of sharp pains in the soles of his feet. Raamgarnus must have forgotten the pain medicine.

_Raamgarnus._

He pulled the fresh shirt off of himself again, and took a shaky step towards the back wall. His muscles weren't as heavy anymore and walking wasn't as fatiguing. He put his back against the smooth surface and slid down to the floor, glancing back at the bed.

_He's being so hospitable._

Gil shivered. Maybe he should have taken the comforter again.

_Is it another game?_

He felt the cold touch of Shydeman fingering the underside of his chin. Gil recoiled from the invisible seduction, pressing further up against the wall.

_Raamgarnas is playing with me. Just like him. Just like Shydeman._

Gil was shaking-- and not because of the cold. He hadn't escaped from the cruelty. It was still there, hiding beneath a seemingly benign mask of love.

Love. God, what a sickening word.

He stood, and stepped confidently to the bed, pulling off the heaviest blanket and folding it around his shoulders. The only one who could save him was no one. He had to leave. It didn't matter where, just... elsewhere.

He slunk towards the door, crouched low. He hadn't explored the rest of the house. It was like stepping out onto an unknown frontier, and it looked even more unfriendly in the dark. Intimidated but not discouraged, Gil crept out of the room and found the entrance-- exit.

The door creaked when he opened it, and not waiting for a response of his captor, he dashed outside without a second thought, only to stumble and fall into the cruel, biting snow. Snow. He had no idea. How could he have been sitting in that room for so long, and not even have known the weather? He grew doubly frustrated at the irritating chill and isolation of his existence, and tore headlong into the woods, his cover feeling thinner by the moment.

It didn't matter where he went. Just somewhere else.

He ran for what seemed as hours, days, years. Yet, he knew that none of those measurements were correct, and only the hostile environment seemed to slow down time. He stopped for a few to look around and gather his bearings. Night vision showed him trees. Trees, trees, and more trees in every possible direction, and then a line of widely spaced footprints pointing away from his destination.

What destination?

_Somewhere else._ He answered himself. It was the only destination he had. As long as he was moving he would find it, and as long as he stopped he wouldn't.

He was sweating, and though his heart beat rapidly in his chest, he didn't feel any warmer than before. He curled up at the base of a tree, pulling his feet in towards him. They were bleeding. When did that happen?

_I'm insane._ He told himself. _Completely insane._ It wasn't surprising though. He had felt on the edge of insanity for all that he could remember of his life. Maybe he always was insane. The thought almost seemed reassuring. Insanity needed no reasons or justification. He was free to wander out aimlessly into somewhere else, bleeding a trail of bread crumbs, and huddling up in a stolen blanket.

Gil curled his fingers around his toes in an attempt to warm them. It didn't do much good, and he found himself moments later staring at the cold red paint that clung to his hands. Why was it so cold? Everyone else's blood was warm, but his was cold. I guess that made him unique-- _special_-- in the warm bodied environment of stony hearts.

He began to giggle, pressing the bloodied hand against his face. _Insane. I'm going insane. I'm going insane and I'm fully aware of it._ He was on his side now, watching the expanse of white pour out in front of him. The ground was so soft. Like the bed Shydeman always pulled him into. Cold and soft. Cold and soft. Cold and...

Darkness slipped into his vision for a second, and then faded away. He couldn't fall asleep now. Sleep was weakness. If he slept now he would never find Somewhere Else.

Somewhere Else was behind that tree. And then behind that one, and behind that one, and the one after that. But Somewhere Else didn't have a cold and soft bed. Only he could have the cold and soft bed where he could lay and think of only the simple things, like how funny the snow looked falling sideways, and the obnoxious darkness that was slipping into his vision again.

But he couldn't fall asleep, because then he would never find Somewhere Else.

* * *

It was like some sort of nightmare. _This can't be happening._ Raamgarnus thought, standing against the wind shin deep in snow and holding a flickering lamp. He shouted Gi's name at various intervals, trudging through the icy terrain, and fighting initial panic.

_Why would he have left? Wouldn't both his human and animal instincts keep him at home? He just darted out into the wasteland without a trace of evidence answering the earth-shattering question: "Why?"_

There were no tracks, only an ominous slice of white that spread out before him like the sky. Impossible to navigate, to trail, to _survive_. "Gil!" Raamgarnus cried out again, knowing it would be in vain, but still praying for a miracle.

_No Raamu-- you're smarter than this, you can handle this._ He reassured himself with despairing hope. _I'll find him-- I have to find him-- If I don't he'll die-- he'll fucking __die_-- Raamgarnus covered his face with a trembling hand, as the disparity fell upon him. _Don't panic, Raamgarnus, don't panic-- you're better than that you're--_

Youkai.

The lamp went out, but the realization stayed. _I'm youkai. I'm youkai-- as much as I hate it-- I'm youkai just like him._ He dropped to his knees, calming himself, trying to get back in touch with his suppressed instincts. He tried to ignore the biting wind and soulless snow, and closed his eyes.

_Inhale..._ He let himself used the enhanced senses he was born with. One breath... two... a third...

Blood.

There was no doubt about it. Subtle, but traceable. Raamgarnus pulled himself to his feet, his new confidence now overrun with intense worry.

Following a the invisible bleeding trail, he found him. His body anyway.

* * *

The fire did about as much as the blankets. Raamgarnus had verified a heartbeat and shallow breathing, but that wouldn't last as long as Gil suffered from his hypothermic illness. He bound Gi's bleeding feet and soaked them in warm water, and after giving the rest of his body similar treatment, wrapped several blankets around him. _Please Gil, please._ He wound another layer around him, aware that it wasn't going to do much, but at this point anything was worth trying.

Raamgarnus stood, walking towards the fireplace, then the kitchen, then back to Gil. Nervous pacing did little for him as he would try to boil some water or prepare some food, only to be sitting next to Gil's small frame curled up on the sofa.

"Please Gil, please-- God please let him-- Wake up Gil, just for a little bit..." Raamgarnus touched his face, marked with erratic lines, then pushed the hair back away from his right eye. A scar ran deeply from the middle of his forehead down to the top of his cheek-- an eye that would never see daylight. "What have they done to you?" he asked in hushed tones, hoping he would never know the details of the answer.

Raamgarnus clutched Gil's shoulder's and shook him, "Gil, you've got to wake up-- please! I've tried everything-- stay alive-- say something!" An uneventful silence followed as Raamgarnus stared into the solemn face of his cold sleeper. "You're going to die in your sleep-- don't you get it? It may seem like a great idea to you, but-- Gil, I promised I'd save you."

There was no response. That wasn't unexpected.

Raamgarnus unwound him from his cocoon, and folded Gil into his arms, re-wrapping the cover around the both of them. Raamgarnus rested his cheek against the other boy's, Gil's chest rising weakly against Raamgarnus's. He pulled him closer. _I promised I'd save you, Gil. I promised. So please wake up..._ The only thing he could do was clutch the fragile body and wait... and pray.

Time neither crawled or flew. It just counted down each second equally and painfully, drop by drop, until the victim stirred.

Gil sigh-sobbed, rubbing up against Raamgarnus, and stretching out his fingers to grasp at his shirt. "Please," he said in a low whisper, "Please, please..."

"Gil, Gil wake up. Gil." Raamgarnus spoke into his ear, and loosened his hold, but couldn't bear to release him. Not like this. Not now. "Gil--"

His gold eye flicked open, taking in his surroundings in one disoriented moment. He pushed away from Raamgarnus, stumbling and sprawling onto the floor. "Let go! Let go! Let--" He hesitated, realizing that was already accomplished, and pulled himself onto all fours, retreating back towards the door.

"Gil, it's all right, it's me!" Raamgarnus said, standing to his feet and holding his arms open. Gil shrank away, hiding his face with his forearms. "I'm not going to hurt you," Raamgarnus dropped to his knees, trying to somehow appeal to this open wound. "Just listen--"

"Do not-- do not--" _(beat me, hurt me)_   
"Do not-- do not--" _(touch me, look at me)_

Gil floundered for a word to fill in the blank as he endlessly pleaded for him to "do not". "I'm not going to do anything! Gil calm down-- look at me!"

The tormented soul clamped his eyes shut, breathing hard against the adrenaline. "Liar, liar. Somewhere else-- that's all-- somewhere else."

"Where? What are you talking about?"

Gil grasped the doorknob above him with a shaking hand, twisting it open and bracing himself for the cold blast that followed. Raamgarnus shot to his feet, only able to call Gil's name before he had disappeared through the door again.

Gil only made it about seven feet before he fell, his legs refusing to take him any farther into the icy snow. He hadn't had this much energy in a long time. Escape had always been to distant in the mind's realm. Now with full grasp of it, his body couldn't even take him there.

The yellow glow from the inside of the house crept only up to his feet, the Raamgarnus's shadow filling in right below. "What good does any of this do?" Raamgarnus asked, his voice filling the still air, "Where are you going? Where can you go?"

"Away. Somewhere Else," Gil, whispered, staring into the shin deep snow, "Somewhere safe. Somewhere away. Somewhere... Else."

"But you already have." Raamgarnus said in a lower tone, "This is Somewhere Else. This is Away. You don't have to run anymore, you've already escaped. It's safe here, no one's going to hurt you."

"Liar!" Gil shrieked, turning towards him maliciously, "You lie, you always have! I hate you, Shydeman, _I hate you_! It's Somewhere Else-- I hate you, Shydeman. I love you, I love you, I love you. Dammit-- to away-- else, somewhere, you liar..." Gil pulled his arms over his head, clutching at his hair. He knew he wasn't making any sense. God, everything hurt, everything spun, _everything_ was against him.

He cringed at a hand on his shoulder, but made no effort to pull away. "Gil, I can't force you to do anything," an earnest voice to the right of him said, "But I'm right here, and I'm going to keep you safe if you'll let me." Raamgarnus pulled Gil towards him, cradling his frame, "Don't cry please."

_I don't cry._

"I hate you." Gil hissed at him, though his fingers were clinging to his lapel.

"I don't care, I'm going to take care of you." Raamgarnus lifted him from the snow's frozen grasp, and took broad strides to the house, staring pointedly ahead.

"Liar." Gil sobbed, closing his good eye and resting his head against Raamgarnus's shoulder. Those couldn't be tears he felt sliding down his face. That was impossible.

"Liar..."

* * *

_Like, WTF? This chapter was super weird. It started out pretty good, and then it just got-- odd. It sounded good when it was still in my head! Argh! I think my inner novice is tired of being suppressed. I hope you guys like this chapter better than I do. 'Cause if you don't... well, let the flames run rampant. It'll be good for me._


	4. Better than a Good Meal

**Warmth Chapter IV: By Secret Yaoi Lover (AKA: Aubrey)**

Disclaimer: Dragon Knights is (c) not to me.

_-- I'd like to apologize for the ever so long hiatus between now and the last time I updated. I have no excuses. I'd also like to apologize for not getting this up in the last week like I promised a couple of you. But hey, if we stick to the Spanish calendar, Sunday is still a part of the week, so I'm still forgivable, yes? _

_-- THANK YOU for sticking with me. You have no idea what it means to me when I see your excitement for the next chapter. It's amazing. It's uplifting. It's overwhelming. But enough about you and me. Here's the story._

* * *

He woke up in bed again, feeling like he was suffering from a bad case of deja vu. All he felt he'd been doing is waking. Waking up in a new place, fighting your memories for some trace of how you got there and when. Waking on a stone floor, a foreign bedroom, a small corner, the arms of a stranger…

_Raamgarnus._ Gil slouched further into the covers, feeling resentful. How could Raamgarnus touch him like that-- like everyone else did? Falling to the level of those cruel bastards…

"Good morning." Gil sat up almost immediately, his unwavering eye following Raamgarnus's steps toward him. Raamu folded his legs beneath him and sat down, setting a glass of dark red substance next to him. "Or 'afternoon,' to be more accurate, I suppose." Gil glared at him, obviously not caring for his wit or his smile.

"Sleep well?"

"No." Gil lied.

"That's too bad, it's probably because your sick." The Raamgarnus swiftly pushed aside the anxious, wavering voice that was creeping into him, "Here let me see." He straightened up, pushing Gil's hair back and covering his forehead with his hand. Gil winced, but didn't move from the rebelliously cool touch.

"Your a bit flushed." Raamgarnus stated, "But no fever. You're recovering pretty quickly, considering all you went through last night. Must be all that demon blood in you."

_Bite me._ Gil snarled back, but didn't have the gall to actually say it.

The visitor-- or rather, the host-- picked up the glass and held it out, "You're going to need to drink this, if you want to get better." Gil let his good eye flick over the glass a few times, and tried to hide a grimace, unsuccessfully. He doubted Raamgarnus would be the type to _poison_, but just the same, it didn't look too appetizing. Forget appetizing, it looked like blood.

"It'll speed the healing, Gil. Drink it."

"No." Gil shook his head briefly, but altogether remained motionless.

"Why not?"

"I don't want to."

"You have to."

"I know. I don't _want_ to."

"You're getting better at speaking."

_Hardly._ Gil ignored him, turning away towards the opposite wall. He was becoming very accustomed to that wall. Maybe he could make friends. It would be a pleasant, mutual relationship where he wouldn't have to answer questions and throw around meaningless syllables in an endless waste of breath.

"Listen, you have to take this medicine." Raamgarnus held the glass a full arms length away from him.

Gil faced him, glowering and frustrated that he had to repeat himself. "No."

"Gil--"

A shatter punctuated the end of the name. The medicine was a glittering stain on the wall.

Raamgarnus stiffened, watching the splatter's long red fingers creep towards the floor. A chilling echo seemed to fill the air. Raamgarnus got to his feet with a sigh. _Hit me._ He raked a hand through his hair, giving the massacre of glass and juices a second flickering glance. "I'm sorry, I guess we'll try again later then, won't we?" _Hit me-- goddammit-- hit me!_

"I hate you." Gil snarled, rebellion licking into his lungs.

"I know. You told me that last time, remember?" Raamgarnus said, beginning to smile, as he started towards the door.

"I hate you!" Gil shrieked again as he left. So uneventful, it was disconcerting. If he would just beat him then he would be readable-- predictable-- _familiar_. But with this constant hospitality and seemingly benign poker-face-- god, it was becoming unbearable! Raamgarnus had to be hiding something under that pleasant appearance. Underneath he was just like everyone else he knew-- and Gil wasn't going to let it take him by surprise.

_Dammit, just punish me. Punish me for the bitch that I am…_

Guilt pushed up from the bottom of his stomach, and Gil fought to keep it down. He pulled his legs into his chest and rested his head on his knees. A soft white shirt was buttoned around him, and his dark scarlet hair was clean and silky. Raamgarnus even bothered to wash and dress him? And while he slept?

Gil pressed a hand up to his forehead, trying to clear his dull senses. His body told him to go back to sleep and let the hot sickness pass away with his thoughts, but…

Gil slid his legs over the short bed and stood with only the slightest waver.

The floor was unsteady. His head hurt with a smoldering pain. He tried to shake it away, but only made himself more disoriented. Gil straightened, took a breath, and stepped rather unconfidently towards the door. The door he had only voluntarily passed through once. The loose ripples of clothing followed behind his steps.

Crossing his arms he began to pull his shirt off, but a sudden chill swept over him, halting his intentions with a violent shudder. The white linens dropped back into their dormant position, warm and soft.

Maybe he would keep them on… just this once.

He curled his fingers around the door frame, aware of his nervous curiosity that was drowning out the burning hatred and rebellion he'd been overcome with once before. He furrowed his brow, blocking it out. Now was not the time to be getting caught unawares. And that dull throbbing in his head… Gil briefly closed his eyes again before stepping out into the wilderness of the living room.

It was a small area, with only the simple pleasures to fill it. Gil slipped along the room, staying close to the walls and warily searching for Raamgarnus. His eye fell upon a book with a title he couldn't read. Intrigued, he brushed his fingertips down the cover and along the spine. He thought he'd seen one similar to it before, as if in a dream. He lifted the cover revealing a page with more unreadable characters, and then the same on the next page. But despite their indecipherable scrawl it was somehow recognizable, the code resting somewhere in his subconscious. That letter there; was that a… "G"?

"Like books?"

Gil dropped to the floor with an audible thud, out of sight behind a large chair. He winced at the light laughter that followed. "If you want it, you can have it. You like fiction?"

_What the hell is that?_ Bitterness began to fill Gil chest again making him weary.

"Don't hide."

"Let me alone."

"But… wasn't I?" Raamgarnus slowly began to circle towards Gil, a childish air playing about him. "_You're_ the one who's not leaving _me_ alone."

Gil floundered at Raamgarnus's statement, scrambling away from him. "Let me--! Leave me--!"

"All right, all right." Raamgarnus said, holding out his hands, "I'll leave you be, but--" His brow furrowed, "Are you hungry?"

_What the fuck sort of question--?_ Gil glanced up at him through the fingers that were netted over his face incredulously. "Well are you?" He didn't answer, still slightly baffled at the spontaneity of the question. "N-no." He finally replied, shaking his head.

Raamgarnus sighed, "Hopefully you'll change your mind once I start dishing it up. You haven't had a decent meal in… say… a week, maybe longer?"

Gil just shook his head again, trying to numb the feverish headache that was lifting steadily. _Not hungry, not hungry, not…_

* * *

Raamgarnus set a plate in front of him on the floor.

Lamb. Cucumber. Bread.

"Cucumber's special since they're hard to come by in the winter time," he smiled, "But then again, what's not?" Gil didn't give him the satisfaction of a glance, keeping his eyes fixed on the floor-- but not on the food. Raamgarnus turned from him, lifting the book Gil had been mildly interested in before off it's bed. He carried it with him to the table and began to serve himself lunch (or dinner; whatever it was). Gil closed his eyes, blocking out the sight of the provocative meal, hiding in the dark while breathing in the desirable scents.

Eventually, he sat up, eyeing Raamgarnus to make sure he wasn't watching. He stretched his hand towards the plate, hesitating several times. Last time he had been offered a good meal his waiters swept the food from his bloodied hands, laughing. Gil's anger could not drown out the suffocating hunger that made even bleeding tiring. That was one of the first times that happened. He vaguely remembered feeling pathetic while he cried. Gil hadn't responded to large meals well ever since. That was until now.

Gil shot up another suspicious glare at Raamgarnus. He didn't seem like too much of a threat, sitting placidly at the table on the other side of the room. His fingers graced the edge of the plate and then gripped it, pulling it in protectively towards him. Gil lifted the steak from the dish and tore off a small piece between his teeth; then swallowed.

All hesitation vanished almost as quickly as the first bite. Gil took another, and another as the hunger of the past two weeks crushed down upon him, causing an unquenchable-- almost lecherous desire to fill himself with the food he had been deprived of as long as he could remember. He didn't care if Raamgarnus was watching him make a fool of himself in an act that must have been gluttony. He didn't care if he tried to take it away. This was a dinner worth dying for. Worth killing for.

Much to Gil's dismay, the food disappeared in under a minute. Even the cucumber. He thought he didn't like cucumber. He lifted the plate off the floor and began to lick it's smooth center. A distinct chuckle resonated briefly from the corner. Gil ignored it.

It was more-- much more-- than he was used to eating. That wouldn't be an issue however. His line of sight wandered towards the table, where there was even more food piled high and smelling better. He averted his eyes, not wanting-- not _ready_ to approach Raamgarnus to beg for more. It was better not to ask at all than to risk being denied and humiliated. _Not hungry._ He reminded himself, _Not hungry then, not hungry now, not hungry._ Denial, however, can be a fleeting thing.

Gil began to stand, then stooped to retrieve the plate. He approached the table cautiously, keeping opposite from Raamgarnus, who pretended to be engrossed in his book. "I--"

Raamgarnus glanced up at him, not bothering to hide his smile.

"I-- would like--" He hated the sound of his own voice. It was low and dark like a man's but struggling and apologetic like a child's. Gil stopped and glanced down at the floor awkwardly, frustrated with himself.

"More?" Raamgarnus inquired rhetorically, "Go ahead and help yourself. Take as much as you like."

Gil's eye flicked over the shallow dish of meat. There weren't many pieces, but each cut was generous. "As much as I--?"

"That's right. I prepared everything for you anyway." Raamgarnus tried to keep his nonchalance, but had to press the book against his face to hide the grin. Seeing Gil shocked in pre-happiness easily made up for the destroyed glass of medicine.

After struggling with himself for a while, Gil outstretched a deliberately steady hand and began to serve himself. This wasn't supposed to happen; no one would, or was allowed to, give him anything. And here he was, taking what he wanted from someone else. He never would have imagined this ever happening. But if that was true, why did he ask for more food in the first place?

Standing, Raamgarnus crossed to the living room to put another log in the fire. He plopped himself down onto the sofa, covering his smiles. Avoiding Gil was working better than approaching him. As long as Raamgarnus attempted to steer clear of him, Gil would-- in theory-- get closer. _With time, that is._

The room was getting quiet. Gil stood from his new hiding place under the table, and warily moved deeper into the kitchen. The hungry was gone, leaving pleasant satisfaction in it's wake. The contentment did not ease his misgivings, however. He stepped lightly, hoping Raamgarnus wouldn't hear him, or worse, hear him. The kitchen was beginning to darken with the early winter dusk. He found a sink with several utensils sleeping on the bottom. Fork, knife… _knife_. Goosebumps lit over his arms. He backed away, forcing his eyes away from it. Just a blade, just a tool for--

_finding blood in anyplace_

--vegetables so one could cut--

_between the fingers_

--cucumber for--

_laughing at pictures drawn in red paint_

--dinner.

Gil put a hand halfway through his hair, just enough to cover his eye with his palm. He was back at the table now, sinking against it's legs and fingering the scars along his cheek and jaw, and then down to the side of his neck. He found three familiar cuts there. Cuts that he himself had planted. He pulled away, half in disgust and the other half in regret of failure. If he had succeeded he would have been spared two more years of suffering. If he had succeeded he would not be here today.

But was today worth missing?

His eyes flicked over to the living room where the back of Raamgarnus's head barely peaked over the sofa. There was a glass of water next to the chair-- a twin to the broken one still languishing in a corner.

The medicine, the glass, the burning anger that sent it flying across the room. What had happened to that spite that was driving him so confidently?

_He's manipulating me._ Gil reminded himself, _Just like all the others. Just like Shydeman._ But somehow Raamgarnus's smile could not match the icy smirks of his memories.

A laugh of sincerity, not sarcasm.

A touch of compassion, not control.

A smile of…

_A smile of… of…_

"What… is that?"

Raamgarnus was startled at the soft-spoken voice at his shoulder. "A-- a book," he answered, glancing up and behind at Gil, who shied back with a cold glare. Raamgarnus turned his attention back to his novel, flipping the cover into view and listing the title, "Ever heard of it? Read it?" Gil slipped further out of the firelight, shaking his head roughly. "Can't."

"Can't?"

"Read."

"Oh." There was a short pause, then, "Well, that's all right. I can just read to you, if you're curious. Besides, I'm sure you've just forgotten how to read. It'll come back to you." Gil shook his head in response, and Raamgarnus wasn't quite sure which comment he was denying. "Sit down over here, Gil. I'll read to you." Gil shook his head again, his wolf like eye glinting in the firelight. Raamgarnus turned his attention back to his book again, "Fine, I won't read to you, but sit down anyway. It's warmer near the fire."

The silence beckoned him to look over his shoulder once again. Gil was glowering at him with an eye that could only express suspicion. Raamgarnus smiled—

_that beautiful stirring smile_

"Hopefully now you realize I'm not going to hurt you," a moment of anxiety flickered over his face, but he bit it down, "But I'm not going to force you to accept me." The gold eye stayed fixed on him, masking any thoughts or responses Gil had on the matter. Eventually the eye disappeared with the rest of Gil's face into the dark ocean that surrounded the shores of the fireplace.

It became silent, as though Gil had never even questioned Raamgarnus's book in the first place. He was obviously becoming more trusting, but not enough to keep his head above the waters of his trauma induced isolation. Raamgarnus began to read where he left off, but found himself skimming the same line several times before remembering it. Taking care of Gil was like housing a ghost; whispering darkly in forgotten corners to avoid and haunt.

Yes, a ghost. A ghost that bled dark circles on the floor. A ghost that cried himself asleep at nights. A ghost haunting only himself, trapped in the nightmarish pleasures of others. He was the expendable one—the unknown soldier who was never missed because to everyone else, he never existed.

Just a wandering spirit that yearned to live one more time.

In one continuous movement, Gil passed Raamgarnus on his left, and sat pointedly next to the fire. He stretched out his hands towards the flames, each scar standing out stark white on his copper skin. Raamgarnus watched as Gil closed his eyes, breathing in the smoky warm fumes that wafted towards him. His shoulders softened, every muscle relaxed.

And for a moment, Raamgarnus thought he saw a sliver of a smile.

* * *

_So the last half of this chapter was done about three months after the first half, so it's quite possible my style might have changed, for better or for worse. What really matters is how much ya'll like it. So… did I live up to my name? _

_My goal is to have the next chapter up before Christmas. It's a pretty easy goal, so hopefully it won't be a problem._


End file.
